Stories from Pentamerone | Page 3

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Transcribed by Batsy Bybell, [email protected]

Stories from Pentamerone
by Giambattista Basile

NOTE
The collection of folk-tales known as Il Pentamerone was first

published at Naples and in the Neopolitan dialect, by Giambattista
Basile, Conte di Torrone, who is believed to have collected them
chiefly in Crete and Venice, and to have died about the year 1637.

CONTENTS
1. How the Tales came to be told 2. The Myrtle 3. Peruonto 4.
Vardiello 5. The Flea 6. Cenerentola 7. The Merchant 8. Goat-Face 9.
The Enchanted Doe 10. Parsley 11. The Three Sisters 12. Violet 13.
Pippo 14. The Serpent 15. The She-Bear 16. The Dove 17. Cannetella
18. Corvetto 19. The Booby 20. The Stone in the Cock's Head 21. The
Three Enchanted Princes 22. The Dragon 23. The Two Cakes 24. The
Seven Doves 25. The Raven 26. The Months 27. Pintosmalto 28. The
Golden Root 29. Sun, Moon, and Talia 30. Nennillo and Nennella 31.
The Three Citrons 32. Conclusion

I HOW THE TALES CAME TO BE TOLD
It is an old saying, that he who seeks what he should not, finds what he
would not. Every one has heard of the ape who, in trying to pull on his
boots, was caught by the foot. And it happened in like manner to a
wretched slave, who, although she never had shoes to her feet, wanted
to wear a crown on her head. But the straight road is the best; and,
sooner or later, a day comes which settles all accounts. At last, having
by evil means usurped what belonged to another, she fell to the ground;
and the higher she had mounted, the greater was her fall--as you shall
see.
Once upon a time the King of Woody Valley had a daughter named
Zoza, who was never seen to laugh. The unhappy father, who had no
other comfort in life but this only daughter, left nothing untried to drive
away her melancholy. So he sent for folks who walk on stilts, fellows
who jump through hoops, for boxers, for conjurers, for jugglers who
perform sleight-of-hand tricks, for strong men, for dancing dogs, for
leaping clowns, for the donkey that drinks out of a tumbler--in short, he
tried first one thing and then another to make her laugh. But all was
time lost, for nothing could bring a smile to her lips.
So at length the poor father, at wit's end, and to make a last trial,
ordered a large fountain of oil to be set in front of the palace gates,

thinking to himself that when the oil ran down the street, along which
the people passed like a troop of ants, they would be obliged, in order
not to soil their clothes, to skip like grasshoppers, leap like goats, and
run like hares; while one would go picking and choosing his way, and
another go creeping along the wall. In short, he hoped that something
might come to pass to